The Forest Sprite
by Whackadoo
Summary: I was challenged by a friend to come up with a smut piece based on the cover photo. But, alas, my mind works in strange and scary ways. This is NOT smut, but a little funny one shot. Hope you enjoy!


**AN: For those who already read this, sorry to say the site deleted all my dialogue for some unknown reason! I have put it all back in! Sorry about that!**

Sam could hear them crashing through the woods somewhere off to his right and turned in that direction. He and Dean had been chasing this thing across three states now. They had no idea what they were dealing with and had had to call Bobby on this one. It was some strange forest sprite or something, normally only seen in Europe. Bobby had no idea what it was doing in the states. Hell, Dean couldn't even pronounce the name Bobby had given him over the phone. Dean had said

Of course getting what they needed to kill it took a small amount of theft. It had to be stabbed in the stomach with a stake, made from the branch of a sugar maple, dipped in the blood of a pure black goat. It took them four very long days to track down a pure black goat. Of course, then they had to steal it because the guy wasn't having anything to do with selling it. Then they had to butcher it. But even that wasn't just an easy slice to the throat. No. It had to be killed in a fairy ring at exactly midnight on a Saturday. What's a fairy ring? No idea, Bobby set it up for them. Sam had every intention of finding out as soon as this was over.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

Didn't sound like things were going smoothly for Dean. The idea was to come at the thing from opposite directions and hem it in at the river. Apparently the things won't touch running water. Sam picked up his pace.

The crashing was getting closer now and Sam could hear the river off to his left. He veered toward it more so that the sprite wouldn't be able to slip out along it's edge. Everything went quiet and Sam stopped to see what was up. He could hear some rustling about 30 yards ahead and to the right and he gingerly made his way forward. All of a sudden, Dean let out a loud, high pitched scream that Sam hadn't heard the likes of since the cat had scared him back when he had the ghost sickness. He bolted straight through the bushes and dead fall, not caring about hiding his presence anymore.

He came out into a clearing and the sprite lay on the ground, squirming but not dead. Sam rushed over and added his maple stake to the one Dean had already planted in it's gut. It let out a blood curdling wail and turned into a pile of ash. Pretty impressive, really.

Sam realized he hadn't located Dean. Turning now, in a circle, he spotted him off to the right. He was facing away from him, leaning with his hands on a large boulder. He was breathing heavily from the chase but also...whining?

"Dean? You okay, man? It's not like you to miss your mark. What's up, bro?"

He didn't move but kept looking down and making the odd whining sound. Sam went over and looked at the ground at Dean's feet but saw no blood. He looked up at his brother's face and noticed it was ghostly white with a sheen of sweat. He grabbed Dean's shoulder to turn him around, but Dean swatted his hand away.

"Dean. What's up?"

In between whining gasps Dean answered, "That...thing...has a ...built in...self...defense...mechanism."

"What? Dean, you're not making any sense."

Dean slowly, almost gingerly turned and leaned his butt against the boulder, continuing to look down. Sam followed his gaze and barely contained a laugh.

"Damn it, Sammy! It's not funny!"

Sam broke out into a grin. "You going out for the boys choir, Dean? You're hitting some pretty high octaves there."

"God damn it, Sammy, do something other than make jokes!"

"Uh, maybe we should take you to a hospital or something. What if those are barbed on the end? Or poisoned?"

Sam felt bad after he said it, a little, when Dean's face actually got more pale than it already was. He didn't think it possible.

"Oh God, Sammy. What the hell?" Dean grabbed a fistful of Sam's coat in a white knuckled death grip. "No hospitals! No way! Fix it, Sammy. Come on!"

"Okay. Okay. Let me see if I have anything in my backpack. I have to go back about a quarter mile. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just hurry, man!"

"Um Dean?" Dean just looked up at his younger brother with a pained expression. "You need to let go of my coat."

Dean let go and Sam took off back through the woods laughing all the way. Ten minutes later he was back with a small pair of needle nosed pliers. He knelt down in front of his brother, eyeing up the situation.

"You want me to just dive right in? Or...Let you know when I'm gonna start?"

"Just do it, bro, and make it fast...oh God..."

Sammy got to work removing about fifteen, wicked looking, six inch spines from his brother's groin. The sounds that came out of his brother's mouth, he will not soon forget.

"Okay, the good news? Your manhood seems to be intact. The bad news? You may not want to do any heavy, extraneous activities with said manhood for awhile until it's healed up. I'm sure Bobby has some ointment or something back at his place if we let know what happened."

"NO!" Dean exclaimed. "News of what happened goes no further than you and me! Understood?"

"Sure Dean, whatever."

The walk back to the car was filled with much laughter and swearing.


End file.
